


Still Learning

by Wolfloner



Series: Falling Verse [5]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dom Wade Wilson, Enemas, Established Relationship, First Time Bottoming, Grief/Mourning, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Pansexual Wade Wilson, Past Character Death, Past Peter Parker/Gwen Stacy, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Protective Wade Wilson, Spanking, Sub Peter Parker, i don't know what happened, i know i'm shocked too, this was supposed to be fluffy and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:08:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26227702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfloner/pseuds/Wolfloner
Summary: Wade wanted very much tofixthis. But given that the only way he knew to fix things tended to involve murder—and that Peter had beenveryagainst Wade’s offer to take out Osborn—he knew he couldn’t. But he could try to offer comfort.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: Falling Verse [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1335292
Comments: 16
Kudos: 157





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *sobs quietly* This was just supposed to be a 2k-4k fluffy thing. Romantical and shit.  
> I...
> 
> Anyway, the whole thing is written. 2nd and 3rd chapters need editing and such, but they should be good to post here in a day or two. Whoo.

_I got a paranoia in me_ _  
__And you wouldn't believe_ _  
__Everything that I've seen, no_ _  
__Coming apart at the seams_  
  
—Halsey, Still Learning

Deadpool and Spider-Man returned home from a patrol in the early hours of the morning, still brimming with adrenaline and excitement. Surprising absolutely no one, Spidey immediately channeled that excess energy into lust.

They talked as they undressed each other. Sharing plans for the next day between kissing and groping and tugging at suits that _really_ should have been easier to take off by now.

By the time they hit the bed, he’d settled back into being Wade. Peter had shed Spider-Man as easily as his suit and was smiling brightly as his Senses tracked the change. (Wade still wasn’t sure how he felt about the fact that being in Deadpool’s presence caused his boyfriend’s Spidey Senses to go off constantly. Part of him kind of wished that Peter had never told him about it.)

“Hey, um,” Peter cupped the side of Wade's face, “I have a question.”

“I’ve got an answer.”

There was a nervousness to Peter’s expression that seemed to be tempering his lust. “Do you, like… Do you want to fuck me?”

Wade chanced a glance down at their naked bodies and how they were pressed and twined together, just in case there was some chance he was seriously misreading the situation. “I sorta thought that was the plan here?”

“No, I meant...” Peter took a deep breath then launched into the kind of run-on sentence that meant his tongue was failing to keep up with his brain. “Okay, like, I know there’s not like a checklist that we have to go through to be a "Proper Queer Coupletee-em" and that any sex we have is “gay sex.” Not that either of us is gay, but you know what I mean. And if you just aren’t interested, then that’s obviously fine, but also you did that with _Eddie,_ and that was a one night stand, and it’s not like I’m jealous or anything but... why haven’t you asked me?”

Peter’s hand was warm against his cheek, and his baby boy looked startled and vulnerable and nervous, and all Wade could do was pull him even closer. “Oh, Sweetheart,” he kissed him. “I’m so sorry that I made you feel, well, any of that. It’s not like the thought of fucking your cute little ass hasn’t popped into my head.” Peter chuckled at that. “We’ve just been exploring so many other things together that it hadn’t occurred to me to bring it up.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Wade kissed him again. “And if you want to try some butt stuff, we can totally do that!”

“Awesome!” Peter initiated their next kiss, something wet and filthy that had Wade rutting their bodies together. “Do you have a preference?”

“This.” Given that his spider had chosen that moment to grab his dick, Wade couldn’t be blamed for failing to keep up with the conversation.

Peter laughed against his lips. “I think butt stuff would be hard like this.”

 _“Fuck,”_ Peter’s hand was sinful, and he had to bat him away to form coherent words.

“I mean, I know that in my—V’s—fuck. _Eddie’s_ memory… God, that’s weird.”

Wade pressed a finger against Peter’s lips. “Baby Boy, you should know by now that I’m willing to swing _all_ the ways. Especially when you’re involved.”

With a laugh, Peter dragged Wade on top of him. “Good to know.” He wet his lips, and Wade tracked the nervous action. “Then, uh. I want you to top. Please.”

“Sure thing, Cutie-Pie,” Wade purred.

“Cool. Good. Great. Uh. Tonight? Now?”

Wade glanced at the clock. “You have work in four hours.”

“So?”

 _“So,_ you know how much I like taking my time with you.” He reached between them, wrapping his fingers around both of their cocks.

Peter whined in disappointment, even as he arched up to press himself closer.

“Don’t be a brat,” Wade admonished. “Brats don’t get to come.”

Spidey collapsed into a fit of laughter at Wade’s claim, his knees tightening against Wade’s sides.

“Oh, you think that’s funny, huh?”

“I’m _always_ a brat,” Peter giggled. “And you’ve always let me come anyway.”

Caught in his bluff, Wade joined his light-hearted laughter. “Maybe someday I won’t.”

“Sure, maybe. Not tonight, though,” Peter challenged, leaning up to tug Wade’s bottom lip between his teeth. 

For a moment, Wade seriously considered proving him wrong. He could do it. Release their cocks and roll off of him. Tell him he could just jerk off if that’s how he wanted to play the game.

But Wade didn’t want that. He wanted to feel and hear Peter come apart underneath him. Because of him. Wanted to find his own release alongside the fantastic little brat—

“Dude, you okay?” Peter interrupted his thoughts.

“Yeah? Why?”

Peter looked dubious. “Boxes giving you shit?”

“Nah.” Wade realized he’d all but stopped moving. He was quick to fix that, unwilling to give the boxes a chance to perk up at Peter’s mention of them.

“Don’t just try to distract—ah, fuck! Right there! Just like that,” Peter keened as Wade focused on the sensitive head of his cock.

Before much longer, Peter was close. It was obvious from his pants and whines. From the way he clung to Wade’s shoulders, digging his nails into his skin.

Wade hissed but didn’t let up. “C’mon, Baby Boy,” he coaxed. “Let go for me.”

Another couple of minutes, and Peter did. He shook and panted, gasping for breath while Wade stroked himself to his own orgasm. 

Peter was smiling at him sweetly when Wade settled on his side.

“What?” Wade asked.

“You’re beautiful when you come.”

Wade snorted. “No, I’m not.”

“Sure you are. You look so…” He waved his hand in the air as he searched for the word he wanted. “Happy’s not the right word. More like… vulnerable, maybe? But happily?”

“If you say so,” Wade offered. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Peter offered a contented hum. “Hey, so… another question.”

“Another answer.”

Peter rolled his eyes affectionately. “You can totally do the whole, “brats don’t get to come” thing sometime if you want.”

Wade had to take a moment to process that. He stalled for time, “That’s not a question.”

“Oh, um. Would you want to do that?”

“Maybe. Why would you want me to?”

“I dunno. Like. I wouldn’t, ya’ know? And that’s kind of the appeal. Giving you that much control over me.”

“Wow.” Wade stared up at the ceiling. “Okay, yeah. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” It would mean denying them both, but he was a sucker for making Petey happy. Or, a fun sort of unhappy, in this case.

* * *

As soon as Peter was home the next afternoon, he called Johnny to ask him to cover their patrol for the night.

“Since when do you blow off patrol?”

“Since every once in a while, I have to put Peter ahead of Spider-Man.”

Johnny snorted from the other line. “Yeah, right. What’s actually going on? It’s not like you have a hot date or something. You’re dating _Deadpool_ for God’s sake.”

“Fuck you too, Storm!” Wade groused from the kitchen.

“That’s not what I meant, I don't even know what you look like! Don’t put words in my mouth, asshole! I meant you’re as neurotically gung-ho about kicking bad guy ass as Spidey. The hell is so important that you’re _both_ bailing?”

Peter gave Wade a slightly panicked look. He mouthed, _What do I tell him?_

“I don’t know,” Wade hissed quietly. “Whatever you want, he’s _your_ friend.”

“Wait, did something happen?” Johnny asked before Peter had a chance to come up with an answer for him. “Did something happen to May?”

“No, no, no, May’s fine, it’s nothing like that. Wade and I just wanted to spend some time together that didn’t involve violence or the stopping thereof.”

Wade wished he could see Johnny’s face. After the number of, “Great power, great responsibility,” speeches Spider-Man had aimed at the guy, his reaction had to be worth seeing. (And Wade was just counting the ones he’d witnessed.) Peter _loved_ to give people shit for shirking their duties.

“Okay dude, but you owe me the _biggest_ favor.”

“Seriously? How many times have I bailed you out—”

“Yeah, yeah, save it. It’s never been because I just “didn’t want to” fight a baddie. Or “preferred” to stay in and pretend to be normal.”

Peter was frowning, and it made Wade want to reach through the phone and strangle Johnny. Human Torch? More like Human Douchebag. Ooh, Flaming Douchebag. Yeah.

“Fine, whatever,” Peter’s reply was clipped. “I owe you.” As soon as he’d ended the call and tossed his phone on the couch, Wade pulled him into a tight hug.

“Ignore him,” he insisted. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with taking a day off once a while.”

“Sure, I guess, but… But, also, he’s right. I’m Spider-Man, and I need to be _out there_ helping people. Not blowing them off to have sex.”

 _I’m not allowed to kill Johnny, I’m not allowed to kill Johnny, I’m not allowed to kill Johnny._ He had to repeat the mantra a few times before he could set the urge aside. “Peter, when was the last time you took a night off?”

Peter blinked before resting his head against Wade’s shoulder. “I dunno. A while?”

“And was the one from “a while” ago due to an injury?”

“Probably.”

“You are _allowed_ to take a day off for yourself. You need to. Self-care and all that, right?”

That’s right, Peter wasn’t the only one to preach about responsibilities. Wade was hardly the best at the whole self-care thing, but he knew what it was supposed to look like. And his precious spider working himself to death every night wasn’t it.

He pulled back enough that he could watch Peter mull over his words. “You’re sure you’re okay with staying in? You _like_ patrolling.”

“I am, and I do,” Wade agreed. “Patrolling and protecting people and all that jazz is super fun. Especially with you by my side! But you know what else is super fun?”

“Don’t say sex.”

Wade put his hand to his chest with a dramatic gasp. “I would never.” Peter’s lip twitched up in the beginnings of a smile. “Spending time with you when there aren’t fifty-million distractions pulling at our attention. That’s what I was going to say.”

“Oh,” Peter smiled. “Well, now I feel like a bit of a heel.”

“I mean, sex is _also_ super fun, and I’m very much looking forward to that, too.” He stole a quick kiss before turning back to the kitchen. “But first! Dinner!”

* * *

Even though they’d talked about it and Peter had agreed to let Wade take all the time he wanted, Wade was still surprised by how cooperative he was. Maybe the reason Peter always seemed so impatient was that they so rarely _had_ the time to spend. 

Naturally, Wade was happy to take advantage of the situation they’d gifted themselves. If Peter was going to let him touch and lick and kiss every inch of skin, he was gonna do it. Especially when it meant discovering just how much Peter enjoyed it when Wade sucked a dark bruise into his inner thigh. And when he bit down immediately after? The strangled moan was music to his ears. 

“Wade,” Peter whimpered, pawing at his shoulder. “Babe, c’ mere. Kiss me.”

Wade chuckled and crawled up Peter’s body, meeting him in the desperate kiss he was begging for.

“You’re shivering,” he murmured, rubbing Peter’s arm. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Excited. Nervous. Is it gonna hurt?”

“Do you want it to?”

“No! Uh, thank you,” Peter rushed out. 

“Sorry, I was kidding,” Wade assured him. “Not gonna hurt you, Baby Boy.” He kissed him again. 

Peter relaxed at his words. At least until Wade settled between his legs and ran a slick finger over his hole. “Oh, that’s weird.”

“Bad weird?”

“No. Just… weird-weird.”

Wade tilted his head. “Wait. So when you said you’d never done any kind of butt stuff… Not even by yourself?”

Peter shook his head. Wade kind of expected him to look embarrassed, but instead, he had fixed Wade with a pleased smile. “I thought about it. A lot. About how it would feel when _you_ were touching me.”

“Yeah?” He wet his lips and tried to focus on rubbing gentle circles against him.

“Yeah. It was tempting, but… I know how much you enjoy showing me new things, and—Oh!” Peter gasped as Wade pushed inside him.

“You’re right,” Wade growled, pulsing the tip of his finger in and out. “I love sharing new stuff with you. Fucking love _doing_ new stuff _to_ you.”

Even as he spoke, he kept a close eye on Peter’s reactions. The way his breath shuddered, how his fingers twitched every time Wade slid his finger free, and how he couldn’t decide if he wanted to close his eyes or stare up at Wade.

“Tell me how that feels, Itsy-Bitsy.”

“Also weird.”

Wade snorted. “Aren’t you supposed to be a genius? Wanna give me more than that?”

Peter made a face at him. “I’m sorry, you have your finger _in my ass._ It’s _distracting._ ” He shook his head. “It doesn’t hurt or anything, but it’s…” he shifted his leg, spreading himself wider. “It’s kind of uncomfortable.”

“Do you want to stop?”

He watched Peter’s bottom lip disappear between his teeth. Wade wouldn’t be surprised if he drew blood with how hard he was biting down. “I don’t know. It’s gonna feel good when you find my prostate, right?”

“It should,” Wade agreed. “But if this part doesn’t—”

“Keep going,” Peter decided. “It’s not bad, just new.”

“Alright, Sweety. Let me know if that changes.”

When Wade found his mark, he knew immediately. Peter jerked and swore. Half sitting up, he reached down and grabbed Wade’s wrist, halting his movements.

“Petey?”

“Holy _fuck,_ Wade.”

He waited a few seconds to see if Peter was going to follow that up with anything. “Okay, I _really_ need more to go on than that.”

“Right,” Peter released his grip on Wade’s wrist. “That was… unexpected.”

After a few slow breaths, Peter laid back down. Oh, he _had_ actually bitten himself hard enough to draw blood. Without making a conscious decision, Wade leaned forward to lick at his lip. He held Peter’s mouth hostage in a deep probing kiss as he pushed his finger back in and brushed against that sensitive bundle of nerves again.

Peter jerked up against him and keened into the kiss. He dug his fingers into Wade’s shoulder blades.

And when Wade pushed in with a second finger, Peter’s grip changed, and suddenly his hands were _sticking_ to Wade’s skin. He couldn’t remember Peter ever losing control of his stickiness during sex before.

“Sorry,” Peter’s eyes were wide. “I think I’m stuck, I—”

“I don’t care,” Wade grinned. “How’s it feel now?”

“G-good,” Peter panted, mouthing at what he could reach of Wade’s face. “God, don’t stop!” he did his best to meet Wade’s fingers while still managing to drag his dick against Wade’s front.

“You wanna come already, Baby Boy?”

“Yes!” Peter whined. “Can I? Please let me come, please let me come,” he went breathless as he begged.

He’d never seen Peter fall apart so quickly and thoroughly. They weren’t playing, and this wasn’t a scene. Peter didn’t need to ask. But he was all the same. Begging and pleading and clinging to Wade so hard he was sure deep bruises were forming under his spidery fingers.

“Whenever you want,” Wade said gently, his tone a complete contrast to the rough circles he was dragging against Peter’s prostate.

It was more than a little obvious that Peter was overwhelmed by his touch. Still, he allowed himself some sadistic glee as his boyfriend shook apart, crying out when Wade didn’t remove his fingers. (He _did_ stop moving. He wasn’t that cruel. [At least not without discussing it, first.])

 _“Jesus Christ,_ Wade.”

“You sure do talk about Jesus a lot for a Jew.”

Peter laughed even as he kicked weakly at Wade’s leg. “Fuck off.”

“If you insist,” Wade teased. He made a show of leaning back and wrapping his fingers around his dick. Which, fuck, might have been a mistake. It felt like he had a few dozen orgasms ready to burst free. “I mean, I thought we had bigger plans for tonight, but—”

“Gimme a minute. My… everything is kind of shot.”

“I’m not surprised. You alright?” 

“Yeah,” Peter stared up at the ceiling. “I’ve been missing out.”

Wade laughed and returned Peter’s blissed-out grin. He felt terrible interrupting it, and Peter let out a hiss of discomfort when he slid his fingers free. “Sorry. Can’t just stay like that.”

“We would have figured something out.”

He massaged Peter’s legs as he guided him to stretch back out. And then redirected Peter’s hand back to his sides when he tried to reach out towards Wade’s dick. “Hands to yourself unless you want my cock to explode.”

“And? You’d be hard again in like 30 seconds.”

It _was_ pretty tempting, Wade allowed to himself. But there was something else that tempted him even more. 

Which was why, instead, he gently circled Peter’s dick. He kept his touch light as he stroked the soft skin.

Peter squirmed, his face twisting in discomfort. “Ah! Wade! Too much,” he whimpered, one hand landing on Wade’s arm.

For a second, Wade was sure that Peter was going to push him away. But when he didn’t, Wade tightened his grip, just a little. “Ask me to stop, and I will.”

His spider trembled as Wade continued stroking his oversensitive flesh. Wade knew that all the wrong nerves were firing, making his touch overwhelming and unpleasant rather than arousing. But Peter had made the mistake of admitting that he liked how easily Wade could overwhelm him. The way his entire focus could narrow to only what Wade was doing to him.

After another uncertain beat, rather than pushing Wade away, Peter drew his arms up so he could cling to the mattress’s edge above his head.

“That’s my good boy,” Wade praised.

Peter kept up a steady stream of broken sounds while Wade touched him. Occasionally a limb would jerk, and Wade knew he was struggling to submit. 

Then, finally, he melted against the bed, and his breathing evened out. 

“Knew you could get there,” Wade murmured. “You’re doing so well, Sweety.”

“Yeah?” Peter slurred.

“Mmhmm. You’re being very good. My good little spidey.”

Soon enough, Peter’s dick decided to take an interest in what was happening. Peter couldn’t have hidden his relief if he’d wanted to. Not that Wade blamed him. And now that his boyfriend was all relaxed and malleable, Wade used the opportunity to reposition them. And to squeeze out some fresh lube on his fingers.

When he slid two fingers back inside him, Peter just let out a low groan. 

“Feels good now,” Peter smiled up at him.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he scissored his fingers, and Peter gasped at the sensation. He looked almost confused, which was adorable. It didn’t take long for Peter to adjust to the way he spread his fingers inside him.

He knew that three fingers were unnecessary, but Peter was taking them so well, and Wade _really_ didn’t want to risk hurting him. Plus, well, he got a rush watching his fingers sink into Peter and work him open. Something about it felt intimate in a way that Wade hadn’t often experienced before.

“You just gonna finger me all night?” Peter asked, having resurfaced from the brief subby cocoon Wade had managed to wrap him in.

“Would you like that? I could, you know. Keep you here all night, just like this, make you come again and again and—What’s our record anyway?”

Peter smacked him with a pillow. 

“That a no, then?” Wade laughed, snatching the pillow away before he could be hit again. 

“I’m starting to wonder if you actually want this.” He knew that Peter was _trying_ for teasing, but there was too much honest uncertainty coloring his voice.

“Of course I do,” Wade tossed the pillow back towards the head of the bed. “Do you even realize how _tense_ you are, though?” He leaned forward to run his hands up Peter’s sides, spreading his fingers wide over his ribs.

“Oh,” Peter frowned slightly. “I told you I was nervous.”

“Yeah, you did. You sure that’s all it is?”

Peter shrugged, which wasn’t _super_ reassuring. “C’mon, Wade. I’m ready. Please?”

Wade held Peter’s gaze for several seconds before nodding. “Like I’d ever say, “No,” to you.” He shuffled closer and pulled one of Peter’s legs up over his shoulder. “Have I mentioned lately how much I love how flexible you are?”

“Y-yeah,” Peter stuttered. “You have.”

“Try to relax for me, Petey,” he pet Peter’s thigh with one hand and used the other to guide himself to Peter’s entrance.

Peter’s body remained tense. His eyes were wide and trusting, and he was taking slow deep breaths, but it didn’t seem to help. “M’okay,” he insisted before Wade had a chance to question it.

Setting aside his own uncertainty, Wade nodded. Peter was smiling, and God knows the guy knew his body better than Wade did. He let himself relax and slowly pressed forward.

Immediately, Peter gasped and clenched down. “Ow, fuck. Stop, stop, stop.”

Wade pulled back, “Okay, Sweetie. You’re okay.”

Peter covered his face and groaned into his hands. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Wade soothed, rubbing his belly.

He let out another low groan. “Can we try again?”

“If that’s what you want.”

Peter dropped his hands from his face and spread his legs wider. “Yeah.”

The second attempt went about like the first, and Peter let out a string of swears that would have impressed even Weasel. 

“Damn, that was _amazing.”_

Peter glared up at him.

“Obviously, not the part where you tapped out because it hurt.”

Wade moved out from between Peter’s legs, and his boyfriend let out a distressed whine and reached out for him. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere.” He laid down next to him and pulled Peter against his chest. 

After a moment, Peter turned and pressed his back against Wade, allowing himself to be held.

“I really do want this,” Peter muttered sadly.

“I believe you,” Wade assured him. “But don’t force yourself, okay? We don’t have to do it tonight.”

“Want to,” his spider grumbled. “We ditched _patrol_ for this.”

“You can fuck me instead?” Wade offered, unwilling to let Peter spiral the way he tended to.

“No,” Peter huffed. Only to squeak and sit up. “I mean, fuck. Um, sure. I’d like to do that, too. Sometime.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “But, I…”

He turned and crossed his legs. “Okay,” Peter sighed, his face going red. “I’m about to say something _super_ gay, so just bear with me.”

Wade nodded, his curiosity piqued.

“And I already know this is stupid and immature and all that, but penetrative sex is like… Important to me.”

“There’s nothing stupid or immature about that.”

Peter continued as if Wade hadn’t interrupted him. “Gwen and I were each other’s firsts.”

Wade’s breath caught. Peter rarely talked about Gwen. And he’d definitely never mentioned anything about their sex life—besides that it existed.

“And, obviously, there was a lot of awkward teenage fumbling around the first couple of times, you know?”

He nodded. He knew.

“But we got there. Figured it out. And…” Peter stared down at his hands, his breath wavering. “Being inside her… her letting me—accepting me—hell, _wanting_ part of me to be part of her—” he broke off, swallowing thickly. He started picking at the edges of his fingernails.

“It was special,” Wade offered.

Peter nodded. “And I want to feel that again. With you,” his blush grew darker and spread down to his chest. Wade wanted to reach out and touch him. Wanted to feel how his embarrassment was heating his skin. But he didn’t want to distract him, it didn’t seem like he was done. “I want to carve out space for you to live inside of me.”

“That is a surprisingly violent metaphor,” Wade blurted before he could stop himself.

Peter gave him a wry smile. “You kind of bring that out in me.”

“If that’s something you want, then I want to give it to you.” He pushed himself up so that he could press a chaste kiss to Peter’s mouth. “And I’ve yet to hear anything stupid.”

Peter must have missed the overabundant awe and love that Wade was projecting because he huffed out, “You don’t have to spare my feelings. I know it’s not as big of a deal to you.”

“Excuse you,” Wade flicked Peter’s shoulder. “Do you seriously think this isn’t important to me, too?”

“It’s not important in the same way.”

“Maybe not,” Wade allowed. “But just because I have a different relationship with sex doesn’t mean I can’t sympathize with yours.”

Peter didn’t reply, but he did look uncomfortable and shot Wade an apologetic look. Which was good enough for him.

Wade kissed him again. “So. Ball’s in your court. What do you wanna do from here?”

“Could we try another position?”

Wade had to hand it to him, Peter was _determined._

“Sure. Grab that pillow.”

He guided Peter to lay down on his front with the pillow under his hips. “This isn’t embarrassing at all,” he grumbled, sarcasm dripping from the words.

“You’ll be fine,” Wade gave Peter’s ass a light smack, just because he could.

“Oh, do that again?”

“You liked that?” He made sure the second smack mirrored the first.

“Yeah,” Peter nodded. “Feels good.” He stretched his arms out in front of him. “Probably should stop there, though. Otherwise, we’ll get distracted.”

Wade snorted but didn’t disagree. He pressed his thumb against the furl of muscle, making sure Peter could still let him in. “Look at that,” he mused, thrusting his thumb in and out. “You feel that?”

“How could I not?” Peter shifted, pressing back against his thumb.

“Smartass,” Wade said affectionately, tugging against the rim as he pulled his thumb free.

This time he just let the head of his dick rest against Peter’s hole. Which took considerably more self-restraint than he’d expected. Good thing he was a fuckin’ pro at denying himself. Okay, he wasn’t. He was terrible at it. But he could keep a painful death grip on his dick while he tried to help Peter’s body get acquainted with him.

Despite his best efforts, and Peter’s assurance that he was good, as soon as he tried to nudge _inside,_ Peter cringed and jerked away from him.

Peter grabbed the other pillow and yelled his frustration into it. “What’s _wrong_ with me?”

“I dunno,” Wade tried to keep his touch comforting as he ran his hand up and down Peter’s back. “But I think you’re putting too much stress on yourself. Why don’t we do something else and revisit this another day, huh?”

“You’re not mad?” Peter glanced back at him.

“Of course not. Why would I be mad?”

 _“I’m_ mad.”

“Well, stop it,” Wade said, leaning down to kiss the back of his head. He chewed his lip in thought for a moment. “Okay, I have an idea. You just relax and trust me, alright?”

“Alright,” Peter agreed.

“Gonna fuck you one way or another, Baby Boy,” he purred. He reached down between them and slipped two fingers back inside. Peter let out a pleased sound at the feeling, which all but confirmed Wade’s working theory that whatever was bothering him was purely psychological.

“That’s it,” he continued as Peter moaned under him. “Just take what I give you. Gonna make you feel good, I promise,” Peter’s reply was a contented hum.

When Wade pulled his fingers out most of the way, he shifted his hips back in time. And again as he thrust them back in. It wasn’t perfect, and the position meant he was having to keep neglecting his own arousal, but Peter’s choked off gasp made it worthwhile.

“I know it’s not the same as my dick,” Wade acknowledged, “but I figured this wouldn’t be a terrible trade.”

Peter panted and trembled as Wade rocked against him, but was otherwise oddly quiet.

Right up until a wounded sob tore from Peter’s throat.

Wade had never gone soft so quickly.

 _“FUCK!”_ Peter slammed his fist against the mattress. “I’m sorry, Wade. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, stop that,” Wade said firmly. He gently grabbed hold of Peter’s wrist (more to protect their furniture than anything else). “Tell me what’s wrong. Did I hurt you?”

“No, it’s…” Peter sniffled and buried his face against the pillow. “I’m being a fucking idiot.”

“Stop _that,_ too,” Wade rubbed his back. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Peter nodded, but it was a long few moments before he stopped hiding in the pillow. “Okay, I guess I know I’m not being an idiot, but it’s… It doesn’t really make sense.”

“Okay.”

“You were doing that—and it felt really good, by the way—but it also felt like…” he groaned. “It felt like saying goodbye.”

Wade blinked. He was lost. “To me?”

“To Gwen,” he barely caught Peter’s words. “Which, I know, you know? She’s been gone for over two years, and that’s… It is what it is. And I thought I’d said all my goodbyes and moved forward as well as someone _can_ from that sort of thing.”

Honestly, Wade was only a little bit less confused. “Sure,” he offered lamely.

“But I guess some little irrational part of me was holding out hope, or something,” Peter continued, curling in on himself. At least he’d quit trying to pretend he wasn’t crying. “And doing this… It feels like I’m just accepting that she’s gone. Or that I’m… I don’t know. Replacing her. Or something.”

Wade wanted very much to _fix_ this. But given that the only way he knew to fix things tended to involve murder—and that Peter had been _very_ against Wade’s offer to take out Osborn—he knew he couldn’t. But he could try to offer comfort.

“You know you can’t, don’t you?”

Peter finally turned onto his side so that he could look up at Wade. His eyes were red, and tears were leaving damp trails across his face.

“You can’t replace her, Peter. I can’t either. Nothing and no one will ever change what you two had, what you were to each other.” He swallowed, scrambling for the words he’d wished someone had been there to say to him. “I don’t think the grieving ever really stops,” he tried. “It just fades into the background, and other things get brighter. But it’s still there, waiting for you to trip and see it. Like stumbling on an old picture that you barely remember even taking.”

Spidey’s face twisted into an expression that Wade couldn’t place. 

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s weird hearing you sound all poetic and shit,” he sniffed.

Wade huffed. “Sorry, I’ll be sure to aim lower next time.”

“You didn’t even reference shooting or stabbing anyone.”

“You took that over. Talking about carving out part of yourself and all.”

Peter snorted and ran his hands over his face, wiping away the worst of his tears. He hadn’t stopped crying, but his breaths were coming easier now.

“Thank you, Wade.”

“Anytime.”

“You’re not disappointed?”

“Not a bit.” He hesitated for a moment before finishing his thought. “And, hey. You can talk to me about this stuff if you want. Or, you know, the happier stuff you remember. Whatever.”

“You want to hear me talk about my…” Peter stumbled over the next word, apparently lost for how to describe Gwen now.

“If you want to tell me about your fiancée, then I am happy to listen.”

“I’m… you…” Peter draped an arm over his eyes. “Aurg, I’m crying again. Damn it.”

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m a little bit sorry.”

He could see a small smile tugging at Peter’s lips. “What if I never get over this, though?”

“Then, we get to find plenty of other fun stuff to do to each other!”

“Careful. With my patented Parker Luck™, we’ll have an easier time getting your fist up inside me.”

Wade couldn’t help but picture it. He held up his hand and slowly curled it into a fist.

At his silence, Peter peeked out from behind his arm. “Should I not have said that? Was it weird?”

“No. Well, maybe, I don’t know. I don’t think so.” He considered the difference in size between the three fingers he’d pushed into Peter’s body and the rest of his _hand._

“Oh! You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

“I can stop,” Wade offered.

“No, I…” Peter swallowed, his gaze shifting to Wade’s hand as well. “I’m not against trying it. Er, not tonight, but… Maybe this weekend.”

Wade stared at him. “Shit, really?”

 _“Maybe,”_ Peter repeated. “Just because I know it’s a thing people do, doesn’t mean I really know _how_ it’s done.”

Wade grinned despite himself. “So we’ll read all about it and see if it’s something we want to try. And if it is, great! And if not, oh well. Maybe I’ll just bend you over my lap, and give you a spanking instead.”

Peter’s eyes lit up. “Definitely one of the two.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, still shocked I wrote an enema scene. If that's not your bag, it's easily skippable though. You can either jump ahead from the first line break or "A few moments later came Peter's defeated whine." to "What had Peter been saying?"

_The same mistakes on and on_ _  
_ _To all my friends I'm sorry for_ _  
_ _They know that I love you_ _  
_ _But I'm still learning to love myself_  
  
—Halsey, _Still Learning_

While the idea of sticking his entire hand up inside Peter had been insanely hot at the time—and actually, it totally still was—researching the reality of it gave Wade some pause. Especially the parts about how fragile his inner walls were, and how easily Wade could seriously hurt him.

Plus, he could only read words like "rectum" and "anus" and "mucous membrane" so many times before the whole thing started feeling overly clinical, which made the back of his mind itch unpleasantly. Things like half-forgotten MRIs and colonoscopies kept creeping into the edges of his thoughts.

Peter, however, took it in stride. Apparently a few semesters of teaching undergrad biology classes led to the ability to be utterly unfazed by discussions about anatomy. Or words like “distal sphincter.”

Wade had never seen this side of his Baby Boy, and damn if it wasn’t impressive. Not that he’d ever questioned it, but now he _knew_ how good of a teacher Peter was. Explaining the physical mechanisms and potential risks of anal fisting seemed to be nearly second nature for him. And, despite Wade’s best efforts to listen unflinchingly, Peter was quick to catch on that some of his word choices were making him uncomfortable, so he shifted away from the medical jargon mid-thought like it was nothing.

Wade had to interrupt their discussions several times to kiss him breathless. Peter never seemed to mind.

Still, however comfortable Peter might have been with the technical side of things, he stumbled a bit when it came to the "hygiene" part.

"Most of the stuff I'm finding says it's probably not really _necessary,_ but the idea of even maybe shitting in the middle of sex is, frankly, super fucking mortifying, so I'm planning to do an enema or something."

"Whatever makes you comfortable," Wade replied with a nod. It wasn't something he'd have been inclined to request of Peter, but he was more than a little grateful all the same. He was also pretty averse to shit being a part of their sex life.

"I've never had or done or whatever an enema before, though. So. Yay for new experiences?" Peter cringed at whatever thought had accompanied his words.

"Want my help?" Wade asked before he'd finished processing what he was offering.

Peter stared at him. "What did I literally _just_ finish saying about shitting? That’s a one-person activity. Hard limit."

"Well, I'd obviously leave you alone for that part. Jesus, Kiddo. I meant the rest. Help distract you and all that."

"Oh," Peter cleared his throat. "Right. Um. Maybe. I'll think about it." He scratched at the back of his head uncomfortably.

“Alright!” Wade clapped his hands together. “Glove options! Latex? Nitrile?”

Peter gave him an appreciative smile at the shift in topic. “Well, if you’re not sensitive to latex, I think that’d be the way to go. They’re slicker and easier to put on and take off. Plus, I can get some black ones with a long cuff from one of the labs.”

“Improper use of supplies _and_ petty theft? Count me in.”

His spider rolled his eyes, but the affection shining from them was unmistakable.

* * *

Initially, Peter had insisted that he was fine and that he didn't need nor want help with the enema. And Wade was content to leave him to it.

He was idly thumbing through some blog posts that Eddie had written. Apparently, some anti-mutant sentiment was starting to gain traction in Denver.

_Assholes._

At least they had one reporter firmly on their side.

He forwarded the link to a few people and settled in to read Eddie's opinions on artificial meat when he realized that the bathroom had been much quieter than he'd expected.

"You okay?" he called out.

A few moments later came Peter's defeated whine. "I think I need your help."

Welp, nothing for it, then. He set his phone aside and padded over. He knocked softly on the door to let Peter know he was there before slowly opening it.

"Hey, what's up?"

Peter’s face just _exuded_ defeat as he glanced over at him for a moment before returning to glaring at the enema bag. “My brain’s being dumb,” he explained. “I know this isn’t a big deal. It’s not going to hurt or anything.”

"So, what's the problem?"

"I don't know," Peter whined again. "Something about it is just… overwhelming."

Wade stepped into the bathroom and pulled Peter in for a hug. “I think I get it,” he murmured. He drew one hand up and gripped the back of Peter’s neck. “You want me to be the one overwhelming you?”

Peter nodded. "I'm—" he bit off his apology. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He released Peter and plucked the instructions for the enema from the counter. It looked like Peter had already gotten everything set up, but he double-checked all the same.

"Alright, Baby Boy, lay down for me." He watched Peter’s eyes go wide as he sank onto the towel he’d laid across the tile floor. It was one of the extra-soft towels that he’d tracked down for Wade’s use, one of the very few materials they’d found that didn’t irritate his skin overmuch. Something about that choice made something possessive roar in his ears.

Peter licked his lips nervously when Wade settled down next to him and gently pressed back on his chest until he was lying down with his knees bent. All in all, Peter looked remarkably _young._

"Gonna need you to spread your legs for me," Wade said, patting Peter's knee.

“Er,” Peter’s eyes darted to the side, and his breath came sharper.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think... I need you to _do_ this to me,” he explained. “Like, can you be firmer about it?’

Wade nodded. He could do that. “Spread your legs,” he ordered, already pushing them apart to expose Spidey's ass to the cold air and Wade’s view.

His spider was quick to hide his face behind his hands.

“Hey, look at me.”

Peter shook his head. “It’s embarrassing,” came his muffled explanation.

“Peter.” At the sound of his name, Peter moved his hands, and his eyes snapped up to Wade’s. “I’m going to take care of you,” he promised. “Your job is to relax and leave everything to me. Do you understand?”

“Yessir,” he nodded.

“There’s my good boy. Now, part of that involves communication, does it?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Which means no hiding from me.”

Peter nodded again and brought his hands down from his face. Instead, he dug them into the towel under him. “Yes, sir.”

Wade couldn’t resist pressing a quick kiss to Peter’s knee before grabbing their lube and slicking up his index finger. Peter squeaked when he felt Wade against him.

"Okay," Peter breathed. "Relaxing now."

Wade chuckled and let his finger slip inside his excellent little sub.

It only took a few moments for Peter to relax and let out a sigh of relief. "There you go, Petey," Wade praised, working his finger in and out.

Once most of the nervous tension had left Peter's body, he pulled out and set about slathering a generous amount of lube over the plastic nozzle.

"This is gonna feel a little weird," Wade warned.

"And then it'll feel a lot weird," Peter mumbled.

"Fair point."

Peter made a face when Wade pushed the nozzle inside him. "I like your fingers better."

Wade snorted. "I can imagine. I'm going to start the water, okay?"

"Thought you were gonna _do this_ to me?" Peter complained.

"Excuse me? Is that not obviously what's happening? You think I'm not gonna tell you what I'm doing?"

His spider squirmed under his gaze. "No, sir. And… thanks."

"That's better." He unclamped the tube, letting the water start flowing into his boyfriend.

"Fuck!" Peter yelped. "Oh, that's not at all what I was expecting."

"What were you expecting?"

"I don't know."

"Need to stop?"

Peter shook his head. "No, I'm okay. It's like…" He closed his eyes. "It's warm and, ugh." Peter covered his face with one hand. "Fuck, this is humiliating."

Wade grabbed his wrist and pulled it back down to his side, tightening his grip as a warning. “Humiliating?”

"Yeah, I… in a good way."

 _"Oh!"_ Wade brightened. He released his wrist and caressed Peter's abdomen, pressing down just enough to feel how the water was filling him.

"Wade," Peter whimpered.

"Breathe," he removed his hand. Glancing up at the bag, he continued, "We're about halfway through."

"Oh, God." The poor guy squirmed at the news.

"I know," Wade soothed. "You won't have to hold it too long."

Peter gripped the towels under him. "Is it weird that this is starting to feel kind of nice?"

"You are far too concerned with things being "weird" or not, Petey. But no. Tell me what you're feeling."

"I can feel places I've never really felt before. It's all warm and wet? I don't know if it actually feels wet or if I just know it is," he mused. "But it's kind of—oof," he cringed, even as his dick twitched in interest.

“I see,” Wade ran his fingertip lightly up the underside of Peter’s dick. “That kind of nice.”

Peter was chewing at his lip, and it was so very apparent that he wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor and hide from what he was feeling.

Embracing his impulses, Wade gave him a few perfunctory strokes. Just enough to earn a garbled cry.

"I know, Honey. Just bear with it a bit longer." The bag was empty. "I'm gonna take it out."

Peter nodded, grimacing at the sensation as the nozzle was pulled free.

"You can move around now if you want. But you need to hold it for a few minutes."

Slowly Peter stretched out his legs. He braced his guts with his hand so he could sit up. Wade had never seen him blush so hard.

"Can't believe you just told me that I'm not allowed to shit."

"Not unless you want to try this all over again. I would have no issue doing this again and again until you get it right."

He would never have expected Peter’s conflicted _moan_ at his threat. 

"You like that, huh?"

"Ye—No—I dunno. I'm kind of feeling a lot right now."

Peter allowed Wade to hold him. He hid his face in Wade’s neck when Wade stroked his belly, pressing just enough to feel how full he was.

"Hnn. Wade.” He panted, struggling to hold still. In his shifting, he pressed his ass against Wade’s clothed cock. “You're still wearing clothes?"

"Mmhmm. I'll get undressed when I leave the room."

"You don't have to—" he groaned. "Speaking of," Peter shuddered. "Help me stand up?"

Wade was careful to make sure Peter had his footing. But even then, he didn't move away. He returned Peter's confused look with a smile.

"No, I _can't._ Babe, please don't make me ask for permission."

"Alright, alright," Wade pressed a quick kiss to Peter's cheek before granting him his privacy.

What had Peter been saying? That Wade didn't need to get undressed? Right! Peter had enjoyed that sort of power dynamic before. He could work with that.

Wade glanced down at his jeans and made the quick decision to change into more comfortable clothes. Trading his jeans for sweatpants and his long-sleeved shirt for a t-shirt seemed like the best move to make.

Then he made sure they had everything they needed while he waited for Peter to come out of the bathroom. Copious amounts of lube designed for anal play? Check. Water and post-sex snacks? Check. Towels because they _liked_ this bedding? Check. Black latex gloves that _didn’t_ trigger any sort of cancer-based flashbacks? Incredibly, check!

Confident they were well prepared, Wade settled on the bed just as he heard the shower turn on. Which, yeah. He’d probably want to shower after _that_ too. “You’d better not be jerking off in there!” he called.

He could hear Peter’s laughter even over the running water. Good, that eased the spark of anxiety that had tried settling in his chest.

“This had better feel fucking _amazing,”_ Peter grumbled as he walked into their room, toweling off his hair. “Because, _that?_ That wasn’t fun.”

“Really?” Wade smirked. “You seemed like you were having a good time when I was in there.”

“Jury’s still out,” Peter shrugged and dropped the towel on the floor. He sat down next to Wade. “But the _after you left_ part. That sucked.”

Wade snorted and kissed his temple. “Sorry. I promise I’ll do my best to make it worth it, alright?”

“You’d better,” Peter grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him into a kiss. “You changed.”

“Mmhmm. You said you wanted me to keep my clothes on.”

Peter nodded and kissed him again. “Okay,” he breathed. “You ready?”

“If you are.”

They laid Peter down, a couple of pillows supporting his head, and he hooked his legs over Wade’s shoulders.

“How’d that feel? Any pulling or unpleasant stretching?”

“Nothing like that. I feel, um. Exposed? Vulnerable?”

“Well, you are both of those things,” Wade chirped as he freed one of the gloves from the box that Peter had swiped. He was pretty sure he could _feel_ Peter judging him for this technique as he pulled it over his hand and an impressive bit of his forearm. He’d tried one on earlier (it would have sucked to get this far and then not have the glove fit), but he hadn’t taken the time to _appreciate_ it. “You weren’t kidding about the long cuff.” He clenched and flexed his fingers, getting used to the feeling. The glove was snug, but not uncomfortable—or at least no more uncomfortable than having anything tight against his skin ever was—and he couldn’t see wrinkles or places where the latex was pulled too tight.

Peter was staring at the black glove, so Wade wiggled his fingers at him, which earned a nervous grin. “Still a good fit?”

“Yep! I can confirm that my arm has neither shrank nor grown in the last three hours.”

“You know that’s not always a given with you,” Peter pointed out.

“That’s fair.” Making sure that Peter’s attention was on him, he grabbed the jar of lube and spread it generously over two of his fingers.

“Oh, this is happening,” Peter exhaled slowly.

“Only so long as you want it to happen,” Wade reminded him gently. He ran one finger over his hole, spreading the lube there. “We’re gonna go nice and slow, alright? The second it stops being fun, we’ll stop.”

“I know,” Peter spread his legs a bit wider. “I’m ready.”

Peter took the first finger with a sigh. They should use this lube for _everything_ from now on, he decided. It was only a matter of a few minutes before he was able to comfortably thrust three fingers as deep as they could go into his boy.

“Wow, look at you,” Wade cooed after he pulled an appreciative moan from Peter. “Feeling good, Baby?”

“Yes, Sir.”

That time, Wade heard it. Peter was calling him _Sir._ With a capital S.

“Fuck,” Wade breathed, twisting his fingers as deep as he could until Peter keened under him.

 _“Fuck,”_ Peter echoed. “Wade—Sir, can I come?”

He curled his fingers, dragging them against Peter’s prostate, and considered his plea. Peter’s refractory period was short. Probably only a few minutes with how keyed up he was right then. But an orgasm would also make him tense up, which was really the opposite of their goal. “Not yet.”

Peter’s eyes widened in shock, and Wade realized he’d never actually said _“No,”_ to his requests to come before. He thought about offering an explanation or an apology, but Peter wasn’t asking for either. He looked _resigned_ to Wade’s answer.

The least he could do was try to avoid his prostate. Or at least not go out of his way to target it. “You’ll get what you want,” he said as he slipped his hand free and applied lube to the rest of his fingers.

When he started trying to work his pinky in along with the other three fingers, Peter flinched and hissed.

“Too much?”

“N-no. Just kind of… Your hand is big.”

Wade gamely didn’t laugh at Peter’s surprised tone. Instead, he just did his best to pull his fingers closer together, to make a narrower profile to push into him. “Better?”

His spider nodded, but his eyes stayed close, and his breathing was unsteady.

By the time he’d tucked his thumb in and started slowly nudging his hand back and forth, Peter was _shaking._ He was panting harshly between broken sounds and squirming nonstop.

“Wade! Please!” he finally gasped out.

Wade stilled. “What’s up, Petey? Do we need to stop?”

His spider’s eyes were wide and shining with unshed tears. “C-can you just. Fuck. Pull out a little. I can’t think…”

“Yeah, of course.” He shifted his hand back a fraction. “Better?”

“Yeah,” he took several long breaths. “I want… need…” he groaned. “I need to say shit without you stopping. Like you mentioned before.”

Wade’s heart hammered in his chest. “Okay,” he croaked. “Tell me your safeword, Peter.”

Peter swallowed. “Mango,” he replied dutifully. “And if I need a break or something, uh. Yellow, okay?”

“Nope.” Wade pulled his hand free, making Peter whine. “They’re usually pretty quiet when we’re having sex, but I _can’t_ have you saying one of their names.”

“Fuck, shit, sorry.” Peter shifted, folding himself in half so that he could kiss Wade. _Fuck,_ Spidey was flexible. “Something else, then.” He could practically _see_ the way Peter’s mind was racing. “Tofu? I don’t want something that’ll completely kill the mood, so…?”

“Tofu,” Wade agreed, using his free hand to shove Peter back down against the bed. He also used the opportunity to coat his hand in more lube. Then, in a moment of brilliance, scooped up a _glob_ in three fingers and shoved it into Peter’s ass.

The absolutely _offended_ cry from Peter made Wade grin, his inner sadist preening.

“Need you all slicked up if we want this to feel good,” he explained, pressing his fingers back into a cone and started to push back into him again.

Peter’s mouth wrinkled at the _sound_ of the lube squelching around his hand. He wondered how that even _sounded_ to Peter, with his overactive senses.

“Can you feel my scars through the glove?”

“Uh,” Peter blinked, shifting his hips until he was more comfortable. “Kind of.”

“Not catching or anything, though, right?”

“No,” Peter assured him. Then let out a hiss. “Stings,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

Wade opened his mouth to ask if he needed to slow down before realization sunk in. _This_ was why Peter had stopped him before. He was uncomfortable and wanted to be able to voice it. To vent all the things he was feeling without risking Wade _stopping._

He put just a bit more pressure behind his hand, and Peter jerked with a broken cry, his legs spasming around Wade’s head.

“Perfect,” Wade purred, twisting his hand just so until a stream of whimpers and whines spilled from his boyfriend, and he writhed under him. “Holy shit, you’re _perfect.”_

 _“Hurts,”_ Peter admitted, tensing around Wade’s hand. “Too big.”

“We’re not even to my knuckles yet, Honey Bunch,” Wade informed him. “If you think _this_ hurts, just imagine what I’m going to do to you.”

Peter moaned. “Yesss.”

Well, okay then.

What he was doing was _hurting_ Peter, but in a way that he was very obviously enjoying. Was encouraging. Which meant Wade was allowed to enjoy it, too.

So with a slow breath, he let himself. Let that part of him that _thrilled_ in violence and bloodshed out, just a little.

He found himself slowing down and focusing in a whole new way as he worked his hand deeper. Not just observing Peter’s reactions, but letting every cry and curse and conflicted squirm wash over him. Distantly he wondered if _this_ feeling was what Peter had been talking about before. Showing someone your vulnerabilities and flaws and having them accept them—want them.

And then the widest part of his hand sank past the ring of muscle, and Peter _wailed_ at the sensation. He begged nonsensically for some—any—form of relief from being held so far open. So Wade just held himself there, waiting with bated breath to see what Peter would do. How long would it take until he accepted that he wasn’t in control of what was happening to him anymore?

“Mine,” Wade growled, turning his head to nip at Peter’s leg. He pushed his knuckles in and out, catching his rim every time. “You could have had my cock, you know?” Peter blinked blearily up at him, tears obscuring his vision. “But you wanted this instead. Wanted me to force you open and ruin you.”

Peter’s erection hadn’t survived the pain and stress that had gotten them to this point, but it gave a valiant twitch at his words all the same.

“You wanted _me.”_ Wade let his fingers curl naturally as his hand disappeared the rest of the way inside Peter until his ass clenched around Wade’s wrist.

His boy’s entire body was tense as a bowstring. The fact that he hadn’t destroyed the bed under him (or broken some part of Wade) spoke of his, frankly, miraculous self-control.

“S-Sir,” Peter eventually choked out.

“Yes?”

It took several more attempts, during which Peter opened and closed his mouth uselessly before he continued. “Th-thank you.”

Absolutely no part of Wade could have anticipated the _sound_ that escaped his chest at that. Peter was _thanking_ him?

“Tell me how it feels,” he demanded.

“I…” Peter looked distressed. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Wade arched a brow and shifted his hand, rocking against Peter’s prostate.

Peter brought his arm up and bit down _hard_ to muffle his scream.

Wade had never heard a scream quite like that. As much pleasure as it was pain. He wanted to hear it again—unmuffled next time.

“Why you hidin’ your sounds this time?” he asked, pulling Peter’s arm away from his mouth.

His boy let out an overwhelmed giggle. “Can you _imagine_ if someone called the cops on us right now?”

The mental image was fucking hilarious. Wade leaned forward, uncaring of how awkwardly he was contorting Peter’s body. He was more interested in _tasting_ the sounds Peter made as he shifted his hand inside him.

Peter’s hands found Wade’s back, and he scrambled his fingers against him, his nails catching harshly on Wade’s scars.

“Tell me how it feels,” he repeated, a warning now.

“Uuuh,” Peter whined into his mouth. “Pressure. H-hurts a little—a lot.”

“A little or a lot?”

“C-can’t tell. Fun hurt, though.” 

“Promise?”

“Yes, Sir.” Peter returned his kiss, as desperate for affection as Wade at that moment.

“Want me to make you feel good?”

“Already do,” he slurred between kisses.

Wade smiled. “Maybe I want you to feel even better.” He kept his movements gentle as he pulled back, rearranging Peter’s body, so he didn’t have to put as much strain on his joints. He also held the hand inside Peter as still as possible. He wasn’t sure how fine of a line existed between “fun-hurt” and “hurt-hurt” for the guy and didn’t really want to test that right then. 

His other hand, though, was free to pet soothingly up and down Peter’s chest and belly. If he pressed down just right, he could _feel_ the way Peter’s body was displaced around him. “Holy shit,” he breathed. He could feel himself _through_ Peter’s abdomen.

Peter whimpered. “Ah! Don’t like that.”

“No?” Wade gave Peter’s belly one last pat before venturing lower and cradling his soft cock. “What about this?”

“Hnn,” Peter quivered, his muscles twitching with barely aborted attempts to move. Either trying to get closer or further from Wade’s touch, he couldn’t tell for sure.

“Use your words, Baby Boy.”

“‘M scared.”

“Oh?” Honestly, Wade wasn’t sure how he felt about that. “Of me?”

“Ye—no… A little? I don’t know what you’re gonna do to me. What it’ll feel like.”

Apparently, “how he felt about that” was: horny. He enjoyed that he was scaring his boyfriend. Enjoyed how far he was pushing his limits. “Fun scared or we-need-to-stop scared?”

“Did you hear a safeword?”

Wade snorted. Asshole!Peter surfacing long enough to give him shit let him relax. “Sure didn’t.” There was plenty of lube coating Peter’s thighs and cheeks for him to collect a bit on his way to grab Peter’s dick.

He focused on stroking Peter to hardness, drinking in his cut-off sounds. His boy kept trying to jerk up into Wade’s fist, only to jar the hand _inside him._ He whined through the conflicting urges until Wade felt Peter’s ass relax around his wrist.

Peter’s noises changed. They were no less desperate, but there was an edge of pleasure that had been missing before. He tilted his head back, his entire body going languid, and Wade was happy to watch him relax and rock between his hands, chasing his orgasm.

“There you go, Honey,” he purred. “Just like that.”

“Wade! Sir! Please!” Peter let out a frustrated sound. “More.”

“More, how?” Wade asked. “Like this?” he tightened his grip on Peter’s cock, earning a drawn-out moan. “Or like this?” He flexed the muscles of his hand, tensing and relaxing to match the rhythm Peter had started.

“Like that!” Peter jerked down against his hand hard enough to nudge him that little bit further. “Yes, yes, yes, please, fuck. Can,” he gasped for breath. “Can you? Dee-deeper?”

Ignoring his own aching dick was getting increasingly more difficult. He was immensely glad he’d taken the time to change out of his jeans, or he’d have been too miserable to enjoy Peter begging him to shove his fist deeper into him. “Happy to try.”

It was easier with Peter bearing down against him as he pushed forward. They only managed a couple of centimeters before Peter came with a scream that would _definitely_ have warranted a 911 call in a nicer area of the city.

His hand was down his own pants before Peter’s dick had stopped pulsing. He barely got his pants down enough to free his cock before he was stripping himself in a rough blur.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he grunted as he came, spilling against Peter’s ass and thighs.

He wanted very much to curl up protectively around his boyfriend, but that would have to wait another few minutes at least.

“Wade?” Peter slurred sleepily.

“I’m here, Sweetheart.”

Peter giggled softly. “I know. You’re _in_ me.”

“Sure am.”

"No, you're," Peter gasped, clenching down around his hand, "you're _inside_ me."

Wade smiled, watching Peter's shifting expressions as he mirrored the realization Wade had experienced earlier. "Yeah," he agreed. "That okay?"

"It's amazing," Peter breathed. "Wade, Sir?"

"Yes, Sweetie?"

"I… I wanna keep going."

"Oh, you do, do you?" Wade grinned, wrapping his hand around Peter's dick. All thoughts of rest vanished the moment he began pulling pained little "Ah, ah, ah," sounds from his boy.

He started pulling his hand free. Both to earn the strangled overwhelmed cry that Peter made, but also because pragmatism was winning out. He couldn't just leave his hand in there forever, and sooner rather than later, they'd have an issue with drying lube.

Peter swore as Wade's knuckles caught on his rim. "Wait, wait, wait!"

Wade didn't stop. "That's not your safeword," he reminded him.

"I know," Peter cringed as Wade pulled his knuckles free, only to push them back in again. He did it a few times, just because he could. After that, he pulled his hand free from Peter’s tense body.

"Wow, wish you could see this," Wade mused, running his thumb around Peter's hole. "You're not even closing all the way. Bet you're feeling _super_ empty right now, huh?"

He nodded jerkily, "Feels weird." Peter shuddered at every downstroke, but he was also starting to get hard again.

"Yeah, want me to do something about it?"

"Yes, please, Sir, please, please—" His words cut off with a gasp when Wade scooped up his come and shoved it inside him along with three fingers.

"Did you just…?"

"Sure did," Wade grinned, curling his fingers to rub against Peter's prostate. He shrieked, and, yeah, someone was definitely going to call the cops. "Jesus, Baby Boy. Gonna shove a gag in you next time."

Peter spasmed. "Fuck, fuck, gonna— _shit_ —can I come?"

God, he loved hearing Peter ask. He sped up the hand working Peter's dick. "Ask nicely."

"Please, Wade, Sir! Please, I've been good, haven't I? _Please!"_

"Yeah, you have, Petey," Wade assured him. "You've been so good for me." And he had been. Even when Wade had denied him his orgasm earlier, he hadn’t fought back. He’d just _taken_ everything Wade wanted to do to him. Wade waited until Peter's eyes drifted up to his, _"Come."_

Peter bit his arm again as he came, muffling what was undoubtedly the most beautiful screech Wade would have ever heard. They needed to find somewhere out of the city, away from humanity, to do this again. Wade wanted to know every single sound Peter could make, and he wanted to learn how to _play_ him.

As soon as Peter’s aftershocks faded, he pulled his fingers free and released his dick. He wasn’t sure how well Peter would handle overstimulation right then. Wade had to wrestle down the part of him that wanted to just _find out._

Instead, he carefully pulled off the glove, turning it inside out as it went, and tossed it into the trashcan to deal with a bit later. Peter’s rim was red and puffy, and would probably be good and sore the next day. 

“You are fucking incredible, Petey,” he said as he helped Peter move his legs back down and roll to his side. “That was beautiful.”

Peter smiled and reached up to paw at him until Wade curled up next to him. “You too,” he slurred, his voice rough from yelling.

“You look ready to pass out, Baby Boy.”

“Yeah.”

He made Peter drink some water before letting him melt into the bed. His boy was flying _high_ and seemed perfectly content to use Wade as a blanket, pulling his arm until he was mostly lying on top of him.

“Get some rest,” he whispered, kissing Peter’s cheek.

* * *

"I'm pretty sure our neighbors in the next _building_ know my name now,” Wade teased. Peter had woken up after a short nap and had been willing to let Wade feed him bites of cheese and crackers. He was definitely still in a warm fluffy place, but he was firmly coherent, too.

Peter covered his face with his hands. "Please shut up."

"Not a chance.”

His boyfriend huffed softly and curled up against Wade's chest. "At least I don't have a lecture tomorrow."

"Damn, that'd be hilarious. Gee, Mr. Parker, why's your voice all messed up?"

"What voice is that?" Peter laughed. "Do you think I teach 2nd graders?"

Wade ignored him, "Are you getting sick?" He shifted his tone to his best impression of Peter, "Why no, student of mine—"

"Oh, my God."

"In fact I let my boyfriend see how much of his arm he could stuff inside of me—" 

Peter smacked his shoulder. "Tofu!” He squeaked. “You're making it weird."

"Alright, I'll stop," Wade dropped a kiss to the top of his head. "How you feeling?"

"Dozy," Peter rubbed his face against him. "Sore. Good, though. It was fun."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Um," Peter pushed himself up so that he could see Wade's face. "Thanks."

"Thanks?" Wade echoed, amused. "You're welcome?"

"I don't know! What else are you supposed to say when someone Muppets you to orgasm?"

"Muppets…" Wade collapsed in a fit of giggles. "Fuck, I love you."

Peter's smile was overwhelmingly pleased. "Love you, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note on fisting: IRL, if it hurts, _stop_. It's not supposed to hurt, and if it does, you need to revisit how you're doing stuff. Try again. Don't just ignore pain. (Especially not the first time you do it, rofl.)
> 
> Also, you know: ACAB.
> 
> Kudos and comments are insanely validating. <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoooo!

_Oh, I try and I try_ _  
_ _To be a man but sometimes_ _  
_ _If I breathe, it's alright_ _  
_ _Some things don't change_ _  
_ _I'm still learning to love myself_   
  
—Halsey, _Still Learning_

Over the next few weeks, they made a few more attempts at anal sex. But no matter how relaxed or desperate Peter was, some part of him kept refusing to cooperate. Which didn't bother Wade, except in that it was starting to really upset Peter.

"How is studying going?" Wade asked, leaning over the back of the couch to see what Peter was reading. Most of the page was taken up by some complicated looking graphs, though, and they meant next to nothing to Wade.

"Huh?" Peter's head shot up, and he blinked owlishly. Then he looked back down at the papers he was holding and swore. "It's not." He leaned back and rested his head against the back of the couch. "I keep thinking about other stuff."

"Is this about me threatening Johnny? Because you know I wouldn't _really_ shish-kabob him, right?"

"No, it's—Wait, what?" Peter tossed the papers to the table and turned so he could look at Wade. "You _what?"_

"Wow, he didn't tell you about that?" Huh. Wade had been _sure_ that Johnny would have tattled the first chance he got. Although that would explain why Peter hadn't brought it up, yet.

"No, he didn't. Wade, you can't just—" Peter groaned and shook his head. "Thank you for like, defending my honor, or whatever you thought you were doing."

"I was telling him off for being a prick when you asked for a favor."

"Well, he _was_ a prick about it. Still, please don't threaten to stab my friends."

Wade rolled his eyes, trying to act more put-upon than he actually felt. "Fiiine."

Peter turned back to his homework, "Thank you."

"Wait a minute. So, what was actually distracting you, then?"

"Oh. Just, you know. Sex."

Wade snorted. "You want me that bad, huh? Can't even focus on schoolwork?"

"Yeah," Peter sighed.

"Oh," Wade walked around the couch to flop down next to him. "Want me to suck you off so you can concentrate."

Peter's glare made Wade shrink back a little. "It's not funny."

"I wasn't trying to be? Well, maybe a little bit, but the offer was serious."

He groaned, looking abashed. "Oh. God damn it. I'm sorry, man."

"It's alright," after a moment, he scooted closer and draped an arm over Peter's shoulder. "Buttsex stuff?"

"Yeah. I keep trying to figure out how to _fix_ this."

Wade forwent his assurance that it wasn't necessarily something that needed to be fixed—only because he'd already tried a couple of times. Peter didn't seem to be in the mood to retread old conversations. "Well, have you come up with anything?"

"Maybe. So, what if you, like… shoved it in?"

_"Excuse me?"_

"Right? Because then whatever part of my brain is still freaking out can go, "see, it's good!" and I'll be over it and… Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Peter Benjamin Parker. Did you even _hear_ what you just suggested?"

"What? Why?"

"Okay. Best case scenario from what you just suggested: we ignore what your body is telling us, it's a little uncomfortable, and then, you're right. You're fine after, and we go on to have very satisfying sex that brings us closer as a couple."

"Exactly!"

"Slow your roll, kiddo, I’m not done. Because like 3 steps down from that is: _we_ _ignore_ _what your body is telling us,_ and I _force_ my dick inside you. Which _hurts._ And no one has a good time."

"Oh. It sounds really bad when you say it like that."

"Because it _is_ bad, Peter. So, no. Absolutely not. I'm vetoing the fuck out of that suggestion."

"Sorry," Peter's eyes dropped. "I wasn't… I don't know. I'm not thinking, I guess."

"I get it," Wade pressed a kiss to his temple. "I'm glad you suggested it _now_ rather than, like, in the middle of sex."

Peter slid down to the side and pillowed his head on Wade's lap. "I wish this wasn't messing with me so much."

"Yeah, me too. You sure you don't want to top me a couple of times and see if that helps break through your mental block?"

"I don't think it would," Peter mumbled. "It's not really what I _want."_

"I know," Wade stroked along his ribs. "Have you thought about visiting Gwen’s grave?"

"Huh?"

"It was just a thought. You've said it feels like saying goodbye, so maybe…"

"I should try actually saying goodbye?"

"Maybe. Or, just say hi. It doesn't have to be a sad thing."

With some awkward shuffling, Peter turned onto his back. His legs hung haphazardly over the arm of the couch, and he stared up at Wade. 

"Er, am I being insensitive?"

"No, you're fine. I just… I hadn't thought about it."

"You already go sometimes."

"Yeah, but I've never _talked_ to her."

Wade shrugged. "It's up to you. Maybe you should."

* * *

Peter was careful to keep to the paths between the graves as he moved through the cemetery. Many of the headstones had flowers and decorations, making the place seem more celebratory than he’d expected.

“Hey, Gwen,” he said as he came to a stop beside her grave. He waited a moment before laughing softly at himself. “I think I was waiting for you to reply,” he admitted. “I am… tired.”

With another glance around, he had to wonder, “Should I have brought you some flowers? Usually, when I visit, there are already flowers here.” He scratched the back of his neck.

This was weird. Was this weird? From where he stood, he could see other people standing quietly visiting their loved ones, too. Of course, he didn’t _need_ to do this at her grave, but something about it felt appropriate.

 _“You’re overthinking things again, Pete,”_ he could all but hear her admonishment.

“Yeah, I know,” he answered the Gwen in his memory. “I guess I’m here because I wanted to say… I miss you. So much. I hope you know that.

“But at the same time, some days I think that I should really be missing you _more_ than I do. It’s probably healthy and shi—stuff,” he grimaced and bit the inside of his cheek. _Don’t swear in a cemetery, Parker!_ “It’s not like I still don’t think about you all the time. But most days it’s, I don’t know. Easier, maybe.” He groaned. “Am I a terrible person for that?”

His memories didn’t have an answer to that question.

“There are so many things that we never talked about, you know? I mean, we were supposed to have _time._ There wasn’t any reason to expect either of us to die at 22. And if it was going to happen, it should have—.” He cut himself off. “Sorry, sorry. I know I can’t go down that line of thinking again. I do it too much already.

“The point is… I know if the situation was reversed, I wouldn’t want you to be alone. I wouldn’t want you to just spend the rest of your life mourning me. But we never talked about it, and I don’t know if I’m just trying to justify myself.”

Peter ran his hands over his face. What was he doing? What was he trying to accomplish?

“Do you remember that time we were in the East Village, and I made us turn around because I saw that guy from “work?” I told you he was dangerous and that we didn’t want to be anywhere near him.

“Yeah, so, his name is Wade. And it turns out, I was wrong. Not about him being dangerous, he _is._ But he’s also a really good guy. I mean, he’s loud and brash and might actually be worse about never shutting up than I am—I know, hard to believe that I’ve met my match, right?” He laughed to himself. “I have no idea if you two would have gotten along or anything, but I think he’d have liked you. And if he ever let his walls down a bit, maybe you would have liked him too.

"Because… he’s also charming and thoughtful. And he _cares_ about people. You know, in his way. You guys could have mocked my glasses together,” He smiled at the idea of two of his favorite people poking fun at him.

“Anyway, I’ve been dating him.”

He found himself holding his breath after the admission, but he had no idea what he was waiting for. For Gwen to return to life just long enough to slap him? Maybe for God to strike him down?

Neither happened, and he let out a long sigh. “I just… wanted you to know that. That I was wrong about him, and that I’m… I’m happy. With him. I’ve kind of figured out that I can hold my feelings for both of you in my heart, without diminishing my love for either of you. But it didn’t seem fair for him to know about you, but not the other way around.”

Peter gently placed the stone he’d brought on her gravestone. “I’m never going to stop loving you, Gwen,” he promised. “I don’t know if there’s an afterlife or not, but if there is, well. I’m going to miss you until I see you again, okay? Maybe next time I’ll bring Wade with me. Introduce the two of you properly.”

* * *

Deadpool sat on the roof of a building, his legs swinging out over the empty air. Peter had taken _forever_ to get home, and Deadpool had gotten antsy. So he suited up and went patrolling. So far, he’d stopped a mugging, and had either helped someone get back into their car or else aided in a carjacking. But if the woman had been a thief, she’d been an outstanding actress. (If he was wrong, he didn’t think that should count against him.)

Just as he was planning to get up and head back to the streets, he heard the familiar _thwips_ of Spider-Man’s web-swinging. The spider landed softly on the gravel next to him. “Hey, ‘Pool.”

“Hey,” Deadpool had to resist the urge to launch himself at Spider-Man. He knew that, unlike Peter, Spider-Man didn’t appreciate his PDA. “How’d it go?”

“Good, I think,” Spider-Man settled next to him. “I went for a walk afterwards and lost track of time. Anything interesting happen yet?”

Deadpool recounted the events of his afternoon thus far. Including the stray cat that had let him pet it. “It was black and white with the cutest little pink nose! With the highest-pitched little squeal of a meow. I just about took it home.”

Spider-Man was grinning behind his mask, Deadpool could tell. “You didn’t, though, right?”

“No. I did buy it some food, though.”

“That’s good.”

He wasn’t sure if Spider-Man meant the food or the not-taking-the-cat-home. And before Deadpool could figure it out, he was standing and stretching.

“Wanna go see if there are any more people we can help tonight?”

“Hell yeah!” Deadpool let himself drop from the roof, knowing that Spider-Man would catch him.

“What is _wrong_ with you,” Spider-Man growled after he’d hooked an arm around Deadpool’s waist and they were swinging upwards towards another building. “Don’t _do_ that!”

There was a layer of distress in Spider-Man’s voice that didn’t usually accompany Deadpool’s more death-defying antics. “You okay, Spidey?”

Spider-Man dropped him as soon as they landed. “I’m fine,” he bit out.

“You sure? Because you sound mad.”

“That’s ‘cause I _am_ mad.”

“Oh.” Deadpool frowned. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen Spider-Man mad. Hell, most of the time, when Spider-Man was mad, he was mad _at_ Deadpool. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you even know what you’re apologizing for?”

“For jumping off the building?”

Spider-Man rounded on him, “Could you at least _pretend_ to give half a shit about your safety?”

 _I don’t know how,_ he didn’t say.

When he didn’t respond, Spider-Man sighed. “Could you just… not throw yourself off any buildings?”

Deadpool nodded enthusiastically. “Yep! I’m sorry, Spider-Man. I promise not to do anything like that again.” Maybe one day he’d ask someone to make him a list of things he shouldn’t do. No matter what he put his body through, he’d always get up again. And it wasn’t like he’d been great at keeping himself safe even before that was the case. But actionable orders? He was good at those.

Spider-Man nodded. “I’ll see you at home, ‘Pool.”

Before Deadpool could think of anything to say, Spider-Man launched himself back into the sky.

<hr>

For the first time since he could remember, he was Wade again before he’d so much as taken off his mask. He found a few other petty criminals to scare off, but his heart just wasn’t in it. 

“Peter?” He called cautiously as he stepped through the front door.

“In here!” Peter called from the bedroom. 

Wade nearly tripped as relief flooded his muscles. He tore off his mask and set his weapons aside before venturing into the other room. “Hey, Petey.”

Peter was lying on his side, their comforter wrapped around him. “Hi.”

“Can I sit?”

“It’s your bed, too.”

“Look, I’m really sorry—”

“Nope.”

“What?”

“You… I can’t just get pissed at you for doing things if I’ve never explained that it would upset me.”

“Sure you can,” Wade started removing the rest of his suit. “I mean, having your loved one toss themself off a building seems like a reasonable thing to get upset about.”

As soon as Wade undressed Peter got his arms free from his cocoon and reached out towards him. “For normal people, maybe,” Peter said as he wrapped his arms around Wade. “But, it’s not like it would have killed you.”

Wade did not feel the need to explain to Peter that, actually, yes, he totally would have died. He just would have come back. Better for Peter not to know _that._ For everyone’s sake. “I know you don’t like to see me hurt.”

“True. Maybe I should still be a little bit pissed off,” Peter teased flatly. There was too much pain in his voice. “It’s not just that, though.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Peter swallowed and tightened his hold on Wade. “Not right now.”

“Okay,” Wade didn’t complain that Peter’s grip was starting to hurt. He wished he could free one of his arms to hug the guy back, though. “I’m glad you came back home.”

“Why wouldn’t I have?”

“You were mad.”

His spidey actually laughed a little at that. “I said I’d see you at home. Where else would I go?”

“You have people you could have gone to.”

Peter loosened his hold and pushed himself up on an elbow. “You seriously think I’d leave because you pissed me off?”

Wade shrugged as well as he could. “Depends on what I did.”

“That’s fair,” Peter admitted. “But if I was gonna leave, I would have said so. Promise.”

“It kind of feels like you’re letting me off easy, here.”

“Well, it took you 3 hours to get home after I did, dude. I can only stay angry for so long.”

“You just need to practice,” Wade said. “You’re tiny, but tiny people have the power to hold _so much_ rage inside them.”

“You’re an asshole,” Peter was grinning down at him. “But that’s part of why I love you.”

“Lucky me.”

“Very lucky,” Peter agreed. He finally released Wade, but only so he could curl up with his head on Wade’s chest instead. “I told Gwen about you today.”

“Oh, geez. Good things, I hope?”

“Honest things. Mostly good.”

“But not all good.”

“Nothing bad, though. Some neutral stuff.” Peter’s fingers traced the shifting scars on Wade’s arm. “We saw you once.”

“Hmm?”

“She knew I was Spider-Man by then, and when I told her that we needed to get far away from you, she listened.”

“Well, that’s rude,” Wade chuckled. “It’s not like I knew you as Peter yet.”

“Yeah, I kind of overestimated how easily you’d put 2 and 2 together.” 

“It took me less than 12 hours,” Wade countered.

“Sure, _after_ I’d spent an entire evening with you. Back then, I thought it would be the matter of a few sentences.”

Wade kissed the top of his head. “I think I can be forgiven for not expecting Spider-Man to be a nerdy hipster.”

“Still not a hipster,” Peter grumbled. “I’m just poor.”

“You wear _so much_ flannel.”

“Because it’s warm! Not all of us are walking furnaces.”

He grinned and held Peter closer. “True, but I’m your walking furnace.”

Peter giggled, and Wade could feel him smiling against his skin. “G’night, Wade.”

“Night, Petey-pie.”

* * *

They went for a week without sex, which was fine, if strange. It was apparent that Peter was still processing things, and if he wanted space, Wade would give him space. He was still very open to physical affection and seemed to be taking every opportunity to keep some part of him in contact with Wade. Which was also strange. 

The morning after Peter’s trip to the cemetery, he shared the story of how Gwen had died. (And Wade suddenly understood their fight _way_ better.)

Before that, all he’d known was that Norman Osborn had been involved and that Peter blamed himself. But, given that Peter was a master of self-flagellation, he hadn’t taken his statement of, “It was my fault,” literally.

On day three, Peter actually helped him make a list of things to _never_ do if he wanted people to think he gave a shit about his own safety.

“Maybe if you go a while without grievous injury, you’ll start to _actually_ want to avoid it.”

“Maybe!” Wade thought that was a bit optimistic, but he could _try,_ damn it.

(Unfortunately, one of the items on the list suggested that he _stop_ throwing himself in front of bullets to protect Spider-Man. He told Peter he didn’t think he could stop doing that. Peter had just replied, “It’s still on the list.”)

“When was the last time you took a job?” Peter asked on day seven.

“Uh. About a month ago, why?”

“Should you take one? Are you avoiding them for me?”

“Aww,” Wade bumped their shoulders together. “No to both, Honey, don’t worry. I have enough saved up that I can take as much time between jobs as I want. Which means I can afford to be picky.”

“And you haven’t come across anyone that deserves your time?”

“Oh, no, there are plenty! But no one is offering me money for it,” he grinned. “If you’re good at something, never do it for free.”

Peter snorted, and pushed Wade’s face away. “Alright, _Joker.”_

He moved closer and hissed, “Why so serious?” 

His spider tried so very hard to look disapproving, but he couldn’t keep his amusement from lighting up his eyes. “You think you’re so funny.”

“I’m hilarious, thank you very much.”

After that, they dropped back into a comfortable silence, and Wade let Peter finish… whatever it was he was working on. He was _pretty sure_ the website he was using had something to do with teaching. Peter had given him crap for invading his students’ privacy the last time Wade had tried to snoop, though, so he left it alone. 

Instead, he was keeping track of the people on his shit list. The second one of them made the wrong move, it wouldn’t matter if he was getting paid or not; he’d take care of them. It was nice knowing he had Peter’s tentative support, too.

“Finally,” Peter closed his laptop an hour later. “I hate grading sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?”

“Depends on the assignment. But man, when nearly everyone gets the same questions wrong, ugh. Huge slap in the face.”

“Why’s that? It’s not your fault they didn’t pay attention in class.”

Peter huffed, “No, but if _everyone_ missed it, that means I didn’t do my job very well.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Wade offered. He hadn’t set foot in a classroom since he was 16, but he was pretty sure if he fucked up an assignment, it was always his fault. At least according to his teachers. “So, what do you do now?”

“Well, this is exactly why I assign these quizzes,” he explained. “So I know if they’re struggling with something. Anyway, I threw out the three questions that almost everyone missed, and on Tuesday, I’ll go back over the topic.”

“You’re a good teacher,” Wade decided.

“So, you’ve said.”

“Yeah, but that was when you were teaching _me_ about something. This is like, more general. I _know_ I remember having teachers just yell at the class if we did badly on tests.”

“Those people are why the bar is so low,” Peter sighed, leaning against Wade. “I’m sorry you had shitty teachers.”

“It’s okay. I managed anyway.”

“You dropped out of school.”

“Which is how I managed it.”

With a graceful, fluid movement, Peter turned and straddled Wade’s lap. Wade’s hands instinctively went to Peter’s hips as Peter’s cupped his face. “D’you wanna go on a date?”

“Uh, sure?” Okay, so maybe he’d kind of thought that Peter was going to suggest something _else._ What with him sitting on Wade’s dick and all. “What did you have in mind?”

Peter’s smirk told Wade that he knew _exactly_ what was happening in Wade’s mind. “I was thinking we could get dinner. Somewhere nice.”

“Oh? You gonna let me buy you dinner?”

It took a moment, but Peter nodded. “Yeah.”

Wade was incredibly proud of Peter at that moment. He tightened his hold on his boyfriend’s hips and used his thumbs to rub at the sensitive points where his hips met his groin.

“Guh. Wade, I’m trying to…” Peter trailed off, his breathing shaky. He leaned forward to press their foreheads together. “Why does that feel so good?”

“Because I’m good at what I do.”

Peter chuckled softly. Then he took a deep breath and dropped his hands to Wade’s shoulders and pushed himself back up. “Okay, wait, stop.”

“You sure that’s what you want?”

“Wade, _please.”_

He stopped, tucking his thumbs back next to his hands. “Alright, if you insist. What were you saying?”

“I was _saying_ that I wanted to have dinner. And then try spanking.”

“Fuck yeah, Baby Boy,” Wade tilted his head to request a kiss. Peter was kind enough to provide. “You’re gonna let me feed you _and_ hurt you? I am truly blessed this day.” He dragged his hands up Peter’s sides. “Where do you wanna eat?”

“I really want pasta.”

Peter let out a startled yelp when Wade stood, snaking his arms under him to make sure he didn’t fall. “I know a great place.” It was hard to keep himself from smothering Petey in praise and affection for actually _asking_ for something like this. But he was pretty sure doing so would have the opposite effect.

Besides, he could smother Peter in praise and affection later. 

* * *

“You sure this is alright?” Peter asked, picking at the denim of his jeans.

“You’re fine, Petey,” Wade assured him as he straightened the collar of the blue button-down he’d found amongst Peter’s graphic tees and flannel. Given that Wade was dressed pretty similarly, he really hoped Peter would just take his word for it.

And if not, at least they could both be low-key uncomfortable. Wade didn’t even have one of his cute surgical masks on. 

Although, they’d made it to the restaurant without incident. And given that most of the staff already knew Wade, or at least Deadpool, getting a cozy table in a back corner was a simple matter of asking nicely.

“Do they know you because you helped them or because you threatened them?” Peter asked under his breath once they were seated.

“Helped the owner,” Wade whispered back, “by threatening two busboys and a waiter.”

“Do they still work here?”

“They sure don’t.”

A sweet, bubbly girl came and took their orders. She didn’t bat an eye at either Wade’s appearance or at the sheer amount of food they ordered between the two of them. She did give Peter a decidedly flirtatious wink before leaving for the kitchen.

Peter noticed, and after he was done being startled, he scooted closer to Wade’s side. Wade couldn’t help but grin at how hard Peter was trying to project “I’m on a date!” vibes every time she checked on them.

“I’m not crazy, right?” Peter asked as he twirled spaghetti around his fork. “That’s not just normal waitress friendly?”

“Breaking news tonight here, folks. Peter Parker has just learned that some people find him attractive. And some of those are even willing to flirt with him.”

“Shut up,” Peter huffed. He looked uncomfortable.

“Is it bothering you that much?”

“It feels weird.”

“Want me to get her to stop?”

“No, don’t say anything about it. That would just make it weirder.”

“Alright, I won’t.”

Instead, he waited until he was sure she could see them. He cupped the side of Peter’s face and pulled him into a deep, probing kiss. Something that bordered on obscene for where they were. Part of him expected Peter to push him away or tell him to knock it off, but to his absolute delight, Peter just _melted_ into the affection.

When he pulled back and looked over, he saw that the waitress was grinning. “Fifty bucks, Alfonso!” she crowed into the mostly empty restaurant.

He had been played! He’d have been irritated if watching her parade around with the fifty dollar bill in her hand hadn’t been so endearing.

“Oh, my God,” Peter, however, looked mortified. “Oh, my God, they had a bet going.”

Wade flagged her over, and Peter hid behind his hands. “What was the bet?”

“Well,” she plopped down across from them with a conspiratorial grin. “I looked at the two of you when you came in, and I _knew_ you had to be together. You guys are just so _aware_ of each other, and you move together so well.”

“You got that from watching us walk across the dining room?” Peter peeked out from between his fingers.

She winked, less flirtatiously this time, “I people watch. It’s what I do.”

“So, what did Alfonso think?”

“That you’d kidnapped him.”

“What?” Peter let out an indignant squawk. “Why?”

“Because Alfonso knows me,” Wade explained. “He’s the owner.”

“Yeah. He saw you and ran to the back to yell at the kitchen. His loss, he missed how adorbs you two were being.”

“We _are_ adorbs,” Wade agreed. Peter looked exasperated, but not upset. “Does that mean we can get some free dessert?”

The waitress laughed and stood back up. “Absolutely not.”

Once the bet was settled, the staff mostly left them to their own devices. Which suited Wade just fine.

"So," he started whispering into Peter's ear. "You want me to spank you when we get home?"

Peter's eyes went wide, and he glanced around the room. As if Wade would have risked them being overheard. Just because _he_ was an exhibitionist, that didn't mean his Baby Boy was.

"Don't worry, Honey, no one's gonna hear us," he slid his hand under the table to land on Petey's thigh. "I know where everyone is."

With one last glance around, Peter nodded. "Yeah, I do," he breathed.

"Good boy," he drifted his hand higher, and Peter froze. "Keep eating."

Peter let out a quiet wheeze of a laugh. "I don't know if I can."

"Try, or I'll make it harder."

His fork shook as he lifted it to his mouth, but Peter did as he was told.

"See? Knew you could do it." Wade returned to his own pasta and ate a few bites before speaking. "Have you been fantasizing about it?"

"Of course I have," Peter mumbled. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have asked for it."

"That does make the most sense," Wade agreed evenly. "Tell me how you picture it. What am I doing to you?"

"Seriously, Wade?" Peter swallowed thickly. He stared down at his plate for a long moment, and Wade couldn't help but wonder if he wasn't going to safeword out of the situation. "We're in our bedroom," he whispered to his pasta. "You're on the edge of the bed, and I'm over your lap."

Wade did his best to keep his expression as even as possible. "Are you dressed?"

"At first."

"Am I?"

"Yeah."

"Alright, go on."

"W-well," Peter looked up suddenly. "Sorry, car alarm. Um. So, you start out pretty gentle. But not for very long. I mean, I'm still wearing pants, so I assume that'll kind of shield me from some of it."

"You assume correctly."

"Right, so, you, uh. Take that away. And my pants are just around my legs, so I'm basically trapped in that position."

Wade shushed him right before their waitress came back into earshot. Even in the dim lighting over their table, he could see the way Peter blushed at nearly being caught.

"You boys want some dessert?"

"Still not free?" Wade asked with a smile.

"Alfonso told me all about you, Mr. Wilson," she scolded teasingly. "I'm expecting you to pay for your meal _and_ leave a disgustingly large tip."

Wade laughed amicably. "Sure, sure," he agreed. "What do you think, Petey? Dessert?"

"Sure." Peter's voice was a touch higher pitched than usual, and Wade had to resist the urge to properly fondle him. (There was already no chance that their waitress couldn’t guess where Wade’s hand was.)

"Tiramisu?"

Peter nodded.

"Two, please."

She nodded and bounced away from their table.

"I hate you a little, right now," Peter hissed.

"You almost hated me a lot more," Wade whispered back.

"She seems like a very nice girl who _cannot_ consent to be part of your kinky game here."

"I know, that's why I warned you to shut up."

"Your hand is _on my dick."_

Wade snorted, drawing a glance from the nearest table. "It's not even close."

"It's close enough."

"Peter." Using Peter's actual name never failed to get his full attention. "If you want to stop, you have to tell me. I don't care if you use your safeword or whatever else, but you have to _communicate."_

"I…" Peter looked away. "Sorry. I don't know."

"Don't know what?"

"I don't really want to stop. I'm having fun. But… I'm nervous, too."

"Of what?"

"Getting caught, I guess? Getting in trouble?"

Wade didn't laugh, but he did allow himself a smile. He moved his hand from Peter's leg and instead draped his arm over his shoulder. "Better?"

"I guess."

"Good. So, I'm going to pull your pants down and trap you in a compromising position over my lap. That's where we left off, right?"

"Uh, Y-yeah. And you're nice for a bit again."

"Oh? I thought I was always nice to you?"

"You are!" Peter corrected, probably a bit louder than he'd meant to. "You are," he repeated more quietly. "I just mean, you don't hit me very hard yet. You let me kind of get used to the position and vulnerability and everything."

“So it doesn’t hurt yet?”

“Right.”

“But it will?”

Peter’s gaze met his and _damn._ His pupils were blown wide open. “I hope so.”

Suddenly Wade found himself the one who needed to take a steadying breath. He kind of regretted ordering dessert since that meant more time between the urge to get his hands on Peter and being able to make it a reality. 

When he looked back up, Peter was grinning. “You absolute brat,” Wade chuckled, kissing him. “Just remember this moment later when you’re begging for mercy.”

“Promises, promises,” Peter teased.

* * *

They returned home pleasantly full. Even if it hadn’t been free, the tiramisu had been worth the delay. He could still taste it when he dipped down to kiss Peter in the middle of their living room.

“Kiss me like earlier, in the restaurant,” Peter requested, clenching his fists into the front of Wade’s shirt.

Wade flashed him a grin before granting Peter’s request. He wrapped his arms firmly around his spider and held him close while he took his time devouring him. “Mine,” he growled when he pulled back.

Peter panted and tried to chase after his mouth. Wade snaked one hand up to grab his hair, yanking him back.

“Say it.”

“Yours. I’m yours. Babe, please.”

He tightened his grip on Peter’s hair and kissed him again. As soon as Peter relaxed in his hold, he started walking them towards the bedroom. It was only their innate trust in each other’s balance and coordination that kept them from running into anything and ruining their fun. 

“Good boy,” he shoved Peter backward onto the bed. Peter’s eyes tracked his hands as he reached down to undo his belt. He licked his lips when Wade pulled the leather free from the belt loops. Wade wasn’t sure if it was nerves or anticipation. “What’s that face, Baby Boy?” He purred, folding the belt between his hands. “You want me to spank you with this?”

“I… Maybe. I don’t know.” Peter’s eyes were wide.

“You don’t know?” Wade asked. “Well, that’s alright,” he let the belt fall to the floor. “I don’t think either of us is in the right headspace for negotiation, anyway.” He smiled sweetly at Peter’s faint pout. “Don’t worry. You asked nicely, so I’m still gonna spank you. Next time we won’t be so short-sighted when we talk about stuff, will we?”

Peter shook his head and scooted the rest of the way onto the bed. “Didn’t even think about it.”

“I know. Me either.” He settled on the edge of the bed, making sure Peter had plenty of room to stretch out across his lap. When he looked over, Peter was just staring at him. “Is there a problem?”

“Nope,” Peter squeaked. “Just… We’re gonna do this.”

“Yep,” Wade patted his leg invitingly. “Whenever you’re ready.” When Peter still didn’t move, he turned to be able to look at him properly. “What’s wrong, Petey-Pie?”

“I’m suddenly _really_ aware that in all my fantasies, I was just… on your lap.”

“Ah,” Wade understood. “Would you rather I wrestle you down and drag you across my lap instead?”

“Please,” Peter let out a sigh of relief.

Wade barely gave him a chance to calm before he tackled him to the side, twisting his arm sharply behind his back. Peter yelped and kicked out, but Wade knew how to use his size to his advantage. Peter might have been stronger, but he wasn’t _really_ trying to get away. Still, pinning him to the mattress and landing a loud slap to the center of his ass was satisfying in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

“You gonna keep struggling?” He growled into Peter’s ear.

When Peter squirmed against his hold, Wade frowned. Sure, he could take his Baby Boy down, but if he struggled too hard, one (or both) of them could quickly end up _actually_ injured. Rather than risk it, he dragged Peter bodily across him and wrapped his left arm tight around his middle. “Hold. Still.”

“Sorry,” Peter panted. “I’ll be good, Sir.”

He wouldn’t say that his boy relaxed, but he did become considerably more cooperative as Wade moved them back to the edge of the bed. Wade positioned his leg so that Peter’s hips were raised enough that his ass and thighs were all in easy reach.

“How’s that?” Wade gentled.

“Good. It’s—Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re welcome. We’re gonna start with ten. You ready?”

As soon as Peter nodded, Wade started. He kept the swats as evenly timed and centered as he could, barely ramping up his strength between the first and the tenth. Pain wasn’t the point. Not yet. He just wanted Peter to get a feel for the rhythm of it, of what it felt like to let Wade hit him.

“How was that?”

“Different,” Peter whispered. He’d gone still during the spanking, his breaths coming deeper. “Good, though.”

“You want more?”

“Yes, Sir. Please.”

Wade definitely loved hearing Peter _ask_ him for pain. He kept his hand flat for the next volley and aimed to be a bit less predictable in his strikes. Petey’s face went through a fascinating journey as he processed that, even with his jeans protecting him, Wade’s smacks could still sting.

“Sir!” Peter gasped. “Can I—please—you—”

“Take a breath,” Wade ordered, kneading against Peter’s ass.

Peter obeyed. “More?” He tried. “Harder?”

“I don’t know,” Wade hummed thoughtfully. “I’ve barely gotten to play with you like this. You sure you’re ready?”

“I can take it,” he rushed. “I _want_ to take it, Sir.”

Well, hell. He couldn’t very well say no to that, could he? Wade tapped Peter’s hip, “Up.” His spider was quick to lift his hips and let Wade get his hand between them to undo his pants. He whimpered as the cool air hit his bare skin when Wade slid his jeans and underwear down just enough to expose all the fun places he planned to spank. “Down again,” with a hand on the small of Peter’s back, he guided him back down. Wade made sure that Peter’s dick was pressed firmly against his leg.

“Oh, God,” Peter whimpered, his fingers scratching absently at the blanket.

“Something wrong?”

“No, Sir. Um,” Peter turned his head to look back at him. “I feel... nice. Almost naked?”

“You’re all sorts of vulnerable right now, aren’t you?” Wade purred, warmth curling in his gut. “I’m going to hurt you.” Peter shuddered and ground his dick against Wade’s leg. “Does that scare you, Baby Boy?”

“A little, Sir.”

Wade dragged his fingernails along Peter’s faintly pinkened ass. “Remember your safewords?” Peter nodded. “Good boy.”

Wade was a sadist, and pain was kind of his bread and butter. But he also wanted Peter to want to play this game again. So he shoved down the urge to be _cruel._ It was _Peter_ he was wrapped around, and he didn’t want to harm him. 

Per the fantasy Peter had shared, Wade did his best to start out “nice.” He wanted his hits to sting as he worked over Spidey’s ass. His boy jerked _hard_ when Wade landed on the sensitive skin of his thigh.

He didn’t have any time to wonder if Peter hadn’t liked that because Peter blurted out, “More!” before he’d even finished pulling his hand back.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” he cooed. It was the closest thing he gave to a warning before he tightened his grip to make sure Peter was secure in his hold. Then he relaxed the hold he had on the dark part of him that wanted nothing more than to have his perfect little boy howling and writhing under his hands. 

The next ten strikes were _fast_ , and Wade alternated where and how he landed, keeping Peter guessing and disoriented. The skin under his hand was red and warm when he stopped just as suddenly.

Peter was panting heavily. Each inhale sounded like a struggle. He whimpered beautifully when Wade raked his nails along his skin again. “Wade, _please,”_ he begged softly.

“Please, what?”

“I, I, I,” Peter struggled to catch his breath. “I don’t know. I need something, but I. I don’t know, please, Wade, Sir, please.”

Wade was awestruck at the desperation in Peter’s voice, in his eyes. He wasn’t crying, but it didn’t look like it would take much to get him to that point. “Do you want it to hurt more?” He asked, grabbing a bit of Peter’s skin and pinching.

Suddenly Wade was aware of just how _much_ Peter had been _letting_ him hold him down. The spider broke free from his hold like it was _nothing,_ and scrambled up to sit in Wade’s lap, grinding down against him. “I want you inside me.”

His head swam with the whiplash of their changed positions. And that he had a zipper dragging against his dick, which was singularly unpleasant. “Okay,” he agreed anyway. “Okay, Baby, whatever you want. Just let me get my jeans off, fuck.”

Peter’s desperate eyes went wide, and in the next moment, he was curled on his side, collapsing in a fit of giggles. “I’m sorry,” he wheezed while he watched Wade struggle to get his jeans off and get the zipper as far from his dick as possible.

“Take your clothes off,” Wade shoved at his shoulder.

“I killed the scene,” Peter acknowledged. He didn’t seem bothered by it, though, as he undressed faster than Wade would have thought possible—barring the destruction of his clothes.

“Yeah, I’m fine with that.”

“Me too.” Once he was naked, Peter crawled across the bed to grab the bottle of lube.

“Okay, so—” Wade momentarily forgot what he was wanted to ask when he saw that Peter had slicked two of his own fingers and reached behind himself. Because Peter was taking full advantage of his flexibility and working two fingers deep inside himself.

“So, what?” Peter prompted, twisting his fingers. 

“Well,” he started over the rush of blood in his ears, “I think I was going to ask you to clarify.”

Peter withdrew his fingers and crawled back into Wade’s lap. “Am I being vague?”

“Figured this was a bad time to make assumptions,” he offered. His brain caught up with reality when he felt Peter’s hand on his cock. “Woah, h-hang on a second.”

His boy froze. “Oh. Shit, sorry. I think I was doing all the assuming. Do you not want—fuck. I know you wanted to be sure to be all gentle with me and everything but—”

“Don’t be stupid,” Wade settled his hands on Peter’s hips. “I mean, I did, yeah. But, whatever. Are you sure _you_ want it like this?”

“I don’t care. I just want _you.”_

Wade did his best to help Peter maneuver them, and took over holding his cock to Peter’s entrance while Peter held on to his shoulders. His spidey was shivering again, but he looked _settled_ in his decision.

“I can hold myself up,” Peter said. “Grab my hair and kiss me.”

“What happened to saying please?” Wade teased even as he sank his free hand into Peter’s hair. He pulled him down into a kiss that Peter immediately turned wet and messy and desperate. 

Spidey mewled as he started dropping down. “Please, please, please,” he whimpered into his mouth.

“Take a deep breath and bear down,” Wade murmured softly. He could feel the change immediately, and the head of his dick finally— _finally_ —pushed past the ring of muscle.

Peter made a gutted sound, and his hands scrambled to cling to Wade. “We did it,” he tucked his face against Wade’s throat. “Wade, you’re. You’re inside me.”

“Yeah,” Wade made soothing circles over Peter’s back. “How’s it feel?”

“It hurts, a little,” Peter admitted. “Not as much as your fist did, though.”

“I should hope not,” Wade chuckled. “Are we gonna move, or do you need a minute?”

He heard Peter swallow before he started shifting.

“Wade?”

“Yeah?”

“My legs don’t want to move.”

Wade laughed and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend. “Want me to fuck you, Honey?”

_“Please.”_

When he rolled them, his dick slipped free, and Peter let out a positively _offended_ noise. But Peter had worked through his mental block, so Wade wasn’t concerned. “Don’t worry, Petey,” Wade kissed him, and guided his legs up around his waist. “I’ve got you. Gonna take care of you.”

“I know you will.”

Peter let out a soft hiss when Wade pushed back inside him. “Does it hurt?”

“My ass is sore,” Peter’s smile was wide and open.

“Yeah, can’t imagine why that might be,” Wade mused. He took his time rocking into Peter, savoring every gasp, whimper, and cry as his body slowly started to accept the intrusion.

When he was as deep as he felt comfortable going, keeping in mind that Peter’s ass was still red and sensitive, he closed his eyes and just _breathed._

Peter sniffed, and Wade opened his eyes and brushed a tear from his cheek. “You doin’ alright?”

“Uh-huh,” Peter nodded. “It feels good. It feels…” Apparently, he was too overwhelmed for words. Instead, he clenched down around Wade and _moaned._

“Fuck,” Wade bit his tongue. “Baby Boy, you are not making it easy to hold still.”

“Who said I wanted you to?” Peter challenged. “Pretty sure what I said was, _fuck me.”_

“You’re such a brat,” Wade growled as he rolled his hips. “You know what I’m gonna do to you one of these days?”

It didn’t take long before Peter was meeting his thrusts. “Tell me.”

“Gonna bring you right to the edge of orgasm. And just keep you there. For _days.”_ A particularly sharp thrust had him slamming into Peter’s ass, and he was met with a howl.

“Days?” He was panting and moaning through—or maybe because of—his discomfort. Peter was so _open_ and _fragile_ , all laid out before him. “Not starting that tonight, though, right?”

“No,” Wade huffed a laugh, “not tonight.” He reached between them and took hold of Peter’s dick, jerking him off in time with his thrusts. “Might go the other way. See how many times I can make you come until you’re begging me to stop.”

“Not this time.” Peter was still crying slightly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, _Wade!”_

“I know, Baby, I know,” Wade met his increasingly desperate thrusts.

His spider clung to him as he fell apart, chanting, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

The _sounds_ that tore from Peter brought Wade right over the edge. He muffled his own cries of pleasure in Peter’s shoulder.

“Love you too,” he whispered against sweat-soaked skin. “Love you so fucking much.”

* * *

“Bubble baths are the best inventions _ever,”_ Peter announced as he slid into the hot soapy water.

“The best?” Wade asked. “Even better than that beer you’re drinking?”

Peter glanced between the soft bubbles surrounding them and the glass bottle in his hand. “They’re both really high up there. And like… penicillin. That one’s good too.”

“Microwaves,” Wade offered. “Aquaducts. Stirrups.”

“Stirrups?”

Wade kissed his shoulder. “Something I read a while back. I’ll try to find it again.”

“Mmkay,” Peter relaxed against him. “Hey, Wade?”

“Yes, Petey?”

“You’re gonna spank me again, right? I don’t remember begging for mercy earlier.”

He rolled his eyes. “Ask nicely, and I’ll have you begging for all sorts of things.”

Peter passed the bottle to him. “Sounds good. Looking forward to it.”


End file.
